


You gave me your bullets (and I gave you my love)

by theproblematique



Category: CW Network RPF, Supernatural
Genre: Crossover, M/M, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-21
Updated: 2012-12-21
Packaged: 2017-11-21 21:48:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/602420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theproblematique/pseuds/theproblematique
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for my darling alienass' prompt: "Dean and Jared are at an academy where they train to fight supernatural monsters. Sam was taken from Dean because he was supernatural, too, and Dean has a tattoo with his brother's name on it. Jared and Dean share a room (obviously), and Jared is... Jared, so Dean can't stand him for various reasons."</p>
            </blockquote>





	You gave me your bullets (and I gave you my love)

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't tag it as such but Sam/Dean and Jared/Jensen are both alluded to, for obvious reasons.

  
 

**Jared (Not Sam)**

Dean was... Dean was a good-looking dude. Jared couldn't really help noticing that, but something about the guy also made him instinctively shy away from the thought.

It wasn't about fear. Not exactly. Dean just exuded this unapproachable vibe from the start.

Jared found out why ten minutes after they'd been left alone in the ( _their_ ) room.

Dean had answered his inane get-to-know-you questions with amiable enough monosyllabics (which was quite an oxymoron in and of its own) and then Jared made the mistake of turning his back on the man to face his bag, which he'd carelessly chucked onto the bed by the window.

"So I left my stuff here but the choice of bed is really up to y--"

His feet were swept from under him and he crashed to the floor, hitting an elbow painfully on the bed-frame as he went down. He cried out in surprise but next thing he knew Dean was straddling his hips and snarling in his face:

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

"Wh-what?"

"What exactly did you imagine was gonna happen?" Dean spat. No one had ever looked at Jared with such naked, burning hatred in their eyes before. "What, d'ya think I'd be so tragically overcome by his face you could sneak up on me? Huh? D'you think it'd make me weaker, that this would give you any fucking _advantage_?"

"The hell, dude!" he tried bucking up but strong and fit as Jared was, Dean held him down with insultingly apparent ease.

"Think I won't hurt you just because you're wearing his body?" Dean growled.

"What the fuck are you--"

And then Dean grabbed Jared by the hair and slammed his head so hard against the foot of the bed that Jared's vision winked out.

*

It was probably no longer than a minute, Jared realized later. Being knocked out for longer would have definitely meant a concussion, and he didn't throw up. Lucky him.

He came to with a stinging cut on his forearm and a throbbing headache, and in the time he'd been out Dean had managed to haul him onto the bed.

"I'm sorry," the psycho said, standing ominously over Jared.

Jared didn't even know where to start.

"What."

"You're human. I'm sorry. There's... really no good way for me to explain what just happened."

"Jesus Christ, dude." And then; " _Understatement_."

"Yeah." Dean huffed out a little breath. "Anyway, sorry. I thought you were a shifter. You've heard of shifters, right?"

"'Course. I'm not a complete amateur." Jared shot Dean an unimpressed look. They were roomed together, so that had to mean they were both starting fresh at the Academy this year. Still, at twenty-four Jared wasn't some kind of dewey-eyed newbie. "I get that this is difficult to explain, but by all means give it your best shot on my account."

It took Dean a solid minute to get it together and offer up an explanation. And even then, it wasn't much of an explanation at all. "You look like someone I--you could be his clone. Freakishly similar. He... someone I... care about."

It was the way he said it, more than the words themselves, that hit Jared the hardest. In that jumble of half-sentences had been a thread of agony cut so deep it shaped every word. 'Care about' was clearly so far beyond the truth it was in another stratosphere.

Jared was beginning to realize understatements were this guy's thing.

"I'm sorry." And he really meant it. "This guy, did he... ?"

"Taken," Dean said. There was something chilling about his tone, the word, the air in the room, suddenly.

Clearly that was all the information Jared was going to get.

"Okay. Well, I can't say I've had more awkward first encounters, but I guess this will make a fun story some day?"

He smiled weakly and was met with a completely incredulous stare.

"Are you shitting me?"

Jared's smile faltered. "Um."

"That's it? I knocked you out and... 'this will make a fun story'?" Dean looked like he was torn between disbelief and revulsion. Jared could almost hear the " _Is this guy for real_?" going on in the other man's head.

"Why not?" he replied, unable to sound anything other than defensive.

Dean smirked. It fit bitter and crooked on his face, as though he'd already decided that Jared must be nuts.

And maybe Jared was, because that was the moment when he decided he was going to make Dean Winchester like him, come hell or high water.

 

**Dean (Not alone)**

Dean should scoff, or roll his eyes, or care enough to really want to do either of those things, but mostly he can't because it would take too much effort. He's stretched thin enough as it is.

Sam's not here, so the things that matter pale in comparison.

Jared Padalecki has become the star of HA's first year without seeming to exert one bit of effort to accomplish it. It's been a couple of weeks. He's not even the best Hunter ( _as big as Sammy, as pretty and strong but doesn't use his body at maximum efficiency, hesitates too much, doesn't share Sammy's elegance, his speed, his fluid grace, ingrained from having done this since they were kids_ ), not by a long shot.

But he's surrounded by people even right now, during class, and when he _laughs_...

They are starry-eyed and adoring, these kids training to fight monsters. Some of them have gone through chillingly dark shit already, others are obviously more innocent, like Jared, but it doesn't seem to matter either way when it comes to worshiping the ground Padalecki walks on. Even the haunted, sharp-tongued Lauren manages an honest smile at the kid (Dean knows about smiles and faking them, has had to learn fast in the past few months). Tom Welling asked Jared out two days into the program. Gen Cortese three days after that. Dean knows for a fact both of them are orphans, and it's not a stretch to imagine how that tied into them signing up to a Hunter's Academy to hunt the supernatural, and _yet_.

Dean has the thought that he knows best. Or maybe he's just broken enough to not care.

He doesn't dispute these other people's pain, the things in their past; there has to be a darkness in all of them (even Jared, there has to be; what is _wrong_ with him that he wants to kill things for a living?). But Dean can't imagine anything worse than what he has had to endure. Call him selfish and see if he cares.

The knowledge that Sam was ripped away from him like a limb and that it is expected of Dean to keep living apart from his brother while he knows that Sam's brain is being picked apart, his skull cracked open so people can look inside and try to find out what makes Sammy See things beyond the present...

He could be dead for all Dean knows.

Anger is one of the few emotions he manages to conjure up thoughtlessly. To be honest it's more difficult to shut that out than to produce. Around Jared, it's nearly blinding.

Like now.

Even as Dean pities them, finds them pathetic, doesn't understand them ( _knows best, his pain is greater, has to be, who is Jared to try and_ fix _things around here_?) the others tilt their hopelessly lost faces up at the large guy smiling down at them and beg for approval, like puppies seeking to be petted.

Gross.

"Your brooding is really not as attractive as you seem to think it is," Chad informs him with a light shrug. And then moves on without waiting for Dean's answer to sit beside Alona around Jared's desk, while they wait for Professor Gamble to come in.

*

Jared confuses Dean the longer they spend together.

Missing Sam takes up a lot of space in his head ( _his lungs his heart his gut his blood restricted belittled diluted taken up by the weight of wanting Sam with him again please God please the things he would do the things he is willing to--_ ) but that face, the not-quite-right face that smiles much too often takes up a surprising amount of his attention. Surprising because it's increasing with time, a gradual slope in the graphic.

Jared tries too hard to get Dean to like him; grins too brightly, wants to be understanding way too much to actually succeed before he's making a lewd comment designed to make Dean laugh (doesn't work, but it would have a year ago, Dean maybe would have loved this guy back then, would have wanted to introduce him to Sammy, get him to make Sammy blush).

He's almost impossible to avoid, and Dean would like to blame the way Jared keeps gaining ground in the field of his attention-span on that. He really, really would.

"We were, man, last night, what the hell happened with the thermostat, right? It wasn't just us, right?" The crowd laughs, shakes their heads, _no Jared, look at me Jared, I'm agreeing with you so you'll smile down at me, Jared, please smile down at me_ \-- "We were freezing, Dean'n me--" and Dean startles a little at hearing Jared say his name because he says it almost right that time and it makes his heart leap in spite of himself.

"--Dean'n me had to get out the extra blankets, right Dean?"

And suddenly there are so many faces and pairs of eyes on Dean who is being included in this conversation he wants no part of.

Turns out Jared's not so good at the 'backing off' part of their deal, and Dean hates him for it.

"Yup."

The idiot grins like even that one syllable meant the world to him and Dean hates him for that, too.

 

**Jared (Still not Sam)**

 After that eventful first meeting, Dean was never outwardly rude again. He was never angry again, or sad or upset in any way. In fact, he showed a remarkable lack of emotion. He put on a perpetually mildly amused expression before Jared's antics but it was really obviously forced. He bore Jared's attempts at socialization during the minimal time possible before fleeing. Fortunately, he refrained from knocking Jared unconscious again, and managed to hide the occasional desire to do so very well (not that it always worked).

That said; the guy was completely insane.

He trained harder than anyone, pushed himself to a physically unhealthy level _daily_ , worked as though driven by a power higher than himself. He was never angry again, no, but the hard glint in his eyes made Jared suspect that that was because he was never completely _there_ , either.

He didn't talk to anyone in their year, and rumors and whispers followed him down the halls of the HA like an echo. Sandy swore Dean's father had died trying to kill a demon. Madison was convinced Dean's mother was the fabled Huntress Mary Campbell. Jared didn't know which of the theories he was supposed to believe, but what he did see was Professor Singer pause for a very long, uncomfortable moment when he reached the name on his list before reading "Dean Winchester" out loud to mark attendance.

Jared's uncanny resemblance to the guy Dean had nearly killed an innocent human for was never mentioned again, but late one night, about a month into the program, Jared woke up to the sound of Dean thrashing in his sleep, sobbing, whimpering; "Sam, Sam, _Sam_." It rang with grief.

Whoever Sam was, he and Dean clearly had issues.

Jared went back to sleep only to sink into uneasy dreams, where he heard Dean's low, rough voice grunting " _Taken_ " like it was a curse, the foulest word he knew.

The next morning, Jared woke to find Dean still asleep in his bed for the first time ever. Dean had always been up or gone way before the alarm went off, but today he lay sprawled on the mattress, a slight crease between his brows and his nose scrunched. The dude may well be certifiable, but he was still stupidly fucking hot, Jared reluctantly admitted to himself. From a purely observational standpoint, of course. Not that it was worth thinking about beyond that.

"Dean," he whispered, not wanting to startle him. "Dean?"

He slid off his bed and prodded one of Dean's broad, muscular shoulders, sprinkled with a dusting of caramel freckles--

" _Sammy_."

Dean jerked, eyes glassy wide and raw with emotion, and more vulnerably human than Jared had ever seen them, even on that first day.

The next thing Jared knew, his shirt was fisted in Dean's hand and Dean had yanked him forward, buried his face in Jared's neck to inhale--

He let Jared go just as fast.

"Fuck."

Jared was stunned dumb, still reeling, but Dean recoiled almost disgustedly from him and plastered himself to the wall behind his back.

"Shit. Sorry."

He tried to put the impassive mask back on but it made for an ill-fit today, actual feelings obviously too close to the surface to hide properly. Dean seemed to attempt to force his muscles to relax and unclench one by one, easing himself into a sitting position that strived to be casual.

"Sorry, Jared," he mumbled. "That was... uh."

Not so much with the excuses on the fly, pretty boy.

Still, Jared's heart ached for the guy. For the way his fist was curled up over his gut as thought trying to keep some deep pain inside; for the defensive hunch of his shoulders, for the slight, nearly imperceptible tremble of his limbs that a non-Hunting civilian wouldn't have spotted. He looked like a hunted animal, something barely human that didn't understand why it was being subjected to this torturous agony.

Jared gave Dean his best understanding smile and backed off, movements gentle and slow. "It's okay, Dean."

Dean rolled his eyes, but his stance was shaky when he slid up off the bed.

"You're such a fucking freak," he muttered, mean and gruff.

It felt like a test.

"Screw you very much," Jared shot back easily. "I'm not the one crying in his sleep."

Dean looked like he'd been slapped.

Then his eyes flashed with anger. "What did you hear, Sasquatch? Anything worth telling your friends?"

Jared sighed, exasperated. Therapy: this guy was in dire need of it. Also? Talk about trust issues, man.

"You really think I'd go around telling people? I never reported your violent conduct from the first day, you noticed that, right?"

Dean snorted. "Yeah, well, you have the whole class falling over their asses to please you, Padalecki, and I can recite three girls and two guys who are in love with you right off the top of my head, so--"  
  
"What's that got to do with anything?"

"I--nothing. But you obviously like attention, so..." he said it like it was the worst possible flaw a human being could have.

"Hey." Jared drew himself up to his full height, satisfied when Dean's head unconsciously tilted up to follow. "I've been nothing but nice to you, Dean. I'm sorry if it's difficult for you to interact with me because of Sam--"

"Don't say his name," Dean snapped. The caged violence in his eyes was barely restrained, his whole body flinching when the word was spoken.

Jared had been expecting that, to be honest.

"I just want to make things easy. Easier, okay? I'll avoid you if you want and no hard feelings, man. But you can't just... I mean, we could request a room transfer if you want--"

"No," Dean said instantly. "Please."

Jared hadn't been expecting _that_.

"... Okay." His cheeks felt inappropriately flushed, and he knew the sinking feeling in his stomach was because there was no way of lying to himself about Dean's reason for wanting him around. The reason having jack squat do with Jared. "But then you can't just give me shit for being who I am, all right?"

"Al'right." Dean shrugged, but it rang with some sort of truth, so Jared didn't make him say it again.

"Good. Then can we at least agree for some mutual respect?"

He held out his hand, tried not to look too earnest about it. Dean was obviously still skeptical about the whole thing, but after a moment's hesitation he took Jared's hand and shook it.

 

 

**Dean (Not immune after all)**

 Jared's hair swishes when he turns his head.

He should be a shifter. Dean can't figure out what this is, what it means, if Heaven is coming up with a new and perfected form of torture for him.

Jared gets sick with the flu about a month into the program and Dean doesn't see him laughing his booming loud laugh all day, and the little curl of unease that settles in his stomach is the worst thing about everything.

"You poor mopey kitty," Chad says with an eye-roll during Advanced Weaponry.

Professor Singer looks at him with an amused smile that is clearly at Dean's expense, which is just unfair.

"Get over yourself, Winchester, Christ," Lauren mutters at him in passing. Twice over the course of the day.

That night, Jared's pale countenance and sticky bangs are absolutely gross. His eyes look vitreous and overbright.

"Hey Dean, how was cl--"

"Sandy gave me this to give to you." He thrusts the soup at Jared so hard it sloshes a bit in the bowl and nearly spills over one side, but Jared sits up and takes it gratefully.

"Oh. Thanks man."

Dean's lying, by the way; he met Sandy when she was halfway up to their room, told her Jared was so sick that he was bound to be contagious, and when that didn't faze her he said he would take the luke-warm offering himself and promised Jared would be informed of who it came from.

For some reason, that had worked.

Jared gulps down the liquid a little too fast and Dean has the urge to soothe him by putting a hand on the back on his neck and rubbing or stroking it, which is really kind of fucked up on an impressive number of levels.

"S'good." Jared smiles, a little dopey. "I'm sure I'll be fine t'morrow, but if m'not, please tell Sandy she is the best in the whole universe of ever?"

Dean snorts. "Tell her that yourself."

"Always the gentleman," Jared sighs, slinking back down onto the bed. "So good to me, baby."

"You shouldn't be able to sound sarcastic when you're sick. I think there's a law about that or somethin'."

Jared doesn't answer.

The comparisons are never-ending in Dean's head, a constant stream of _not right, not quite, almost, God that's exactly the same_.

For the first time, he finds himself thinking _different,_ but the thought is comforting. Kind, almost.

It's a strange thing to think, especially in this context, and he's no closer to an explanation two hours later, lying awake in bed while Jared breathes raggedly a few feet away.

*

Dean plans to leave, obviously. He's biding his time, getting intel (he didn't learn all those things about the his fellow classmates because they volunteered the information, after all; security in this Academy is insultingly sub-par) until he has enough to find Sam.

Sam's not dead. Can't be.

Jared's priors are pathetically minor and linked in no way to the Winchester family, so his appearance remains unexplained, and he has one brother and a sister, who he happily offers to show Dean pictures of. The guy looks nothing like Dean.

*

Dean's been unconsciously scrutinizing Jared's body for signs of Sam this whole time, of course he has ( _similarities, differences, the familiar planes all strange-wrong-unfamiliar scent but still the closest he has_ ). But when he looks up from Jared's abs to find hazel eyes fixed on his, it's clear Jared thinks Dean was checking him out.

"You checkin' me out?" he drawls, just like that, out in the open. Eyebrow quirked, as though he's curious.

"Think highly of ourselves, huh?" Dean shoots nastily.

"No. But I asked you three questions in a row and you never had a witty retort. It was unlike you. Also? You were totally checking me out."

For a moment-- _just one, Sammy, just the one fleeting instant and then gone_ \--Jared looks exactly like Sam. To the detail. His eyes half-smug, _look at me, Christ I'm so fucking smart, look at what I just figured out all by myself_ , and it hurts so goddamn good. It aches, but Dean likes it, thrills at the little twist of pleasure-pain in his gut.

That should really have been the twenty-eighth sign of danger, but Dean is dumb sometimes so he files it away in his mind as the first.

Biggest. Mistake. Ever.

 

 

**Jared (Definitely, _definitely_ not Sam)**

Dean had a tattoo. Jared discovered it when he was licking his way down Dean's back.

Okay, this would probably make much more sense with an explanation to go along with it.

Dean had been particularly sullen with Jared for the past week. It had become a running joke amongst the students, to be honest. The inner turmoil and angst thing was very last season, according to Sandy, and they all had crap they had to deal with (some worse than others, Jared knew; he'd seen Lauren break down sobbing in the girl's locker room and helped her as best he could).

Jared wasn't the kind of guy who held a grudge; easy-going was the adjective most often attributed to him, and he'd seen enough of Dean's wild eyes on those first two occasions to know the other man was in constant pain. This 'Sam' they never talked about felt like a ghost trailing behind Dean's every move.

But even Jared had certain limits. Especially when it started to feel like the only thing that brought a bit of color to Dean's cheeks was _pushing_ them.

It turned out his patience wasn't unending.

"Dean, c'mon--"

"No man, screw that, it's her birthday and I don't want to go to some fucking party, have it in her room and Ash can help you set up the lights--"

"Our room is bigger and Sandy's been so nice to you, would it kill you to--"

"I said no."

It was the stupidest argument ever but stupid Dean was being stubborn and putting his foot down for the stupidest reasons and finally Jared had to rub a hand through his hair and sigh tiredly, and later, much much later, he would realize: _that must have been a gesture Sam did, too_.

He really shouldn't have startled so much at Dean's sudden move; the guy was like a coiled spring ready to launch into action any second. Jared watched him in class.

Jared was shoved backwards so his own bed hit the backs of his knees and made him fall on his ass, and then Dean was on him, clutching at his shirt and shivering slightly and there was wetness on Jared's shoulder.

Shit.

He wasn't prepared for it, was the thing, had no idea how to react at first, and then when he put a soothing hand to the back of Dean's head Dean shuddered and pulled him closer, bit into the skin of Jared's neck as he cried.

Jared couldn't help the schock of arousal at that; his neck had always been very sensitive and c'mon, he had Dean on his _lap_ , was it really so messed up to misinterpret the situ--okay fine it was really freakin' screwy. Dean was _crying_.

Well hey, he never claimed he was altogether there, all right? He was training to kill things for a living.

Still, when Dean felt it he froze abruptly, body locking in place.

And then _laughed_.

"You shittin' me right now?" he said, voice thready with mirth.

"I, uh..." Jared's dick had twitched and he was really very sorry about that, all right? But Dean was... what the hell was Dean doing, anyway? "You wanna get off?"

Dean laughed again.

"Poor choice of words there, cowboy." He said it with a fake Texas accent, mocking Jared as usual. So goddamn mean, Dean was sometimes.

Jared shoved the shorter man off his lap and huffed an irritated breath when Dean just rolled with it, landing elegantly on all fours, like a cat.

They sparred without real heat; the most companionable time they had ever had, on even footing for once, maybe, and it was hot, and confined and weirdly light, this banter, this way Dean looked at him, close enough to focused that Jared could kid himself Dean was seeing him for real, instead of a superimposed ghost.

Unsurprisingly, it lead to Jared getting harder and Dean taunting him until they both realized he was hard too.

And that brought them neatly to Jared finding out about Dean's tatoo.

**سامويل**

The lettering wasn't English, but hunting had begun in many different cultures and their studies included ancient Arabic because scimitars were some of the first weapons used for vampiric decapitation.

Oh yes, Jared got good grades, too.

Dean was shoving back onto his cock and Jared was licking the nape of his neck and down his spine when he saw it, _Samuel_ written in a fluid tatoo across Dean's shoulders, gorgeous and shifting as Dean's muscles did, moving along them as though the thing was alive.

He didn't say anything at first because he figured ( _knew_ ) Dean wasn't anywhere near thinking of Jared Padalecki, but when he unconsciously traced the word with his tongue Dean grunted: "You can read ancient Arabic, Jare?"

And Jared was so stunned at the use of a nickname (lies; he was stunned Dean remembered what his name _was_ ) it took him a while to respond, rhythm stuttering.

" _Yeah_ ," he gasped out finally, just as Dean clenched around him so the word was slurred and meant two or three things at once.

"Know what that says, then," Dean stated. He sounded out of breath. A bit.

"Yes."

Jared waited, thought (knew, _knew_ ) what came now, almost wanted it (almost? That was a lie too: he wanted it pretty damn bad and he couldn't have explained why).

"So?" Dean groaned. "Say it."

"Sam," Jared said immediately. "It says Samuel, it says _Sam_ , Sam..."

They both came not long after that.

 

**Dean (Not Jensen)**

After _that_ , Dean decides he really has to go.

He may well be fucked in the head but he feels like his vision has sharpened, like everything is suddenly very clear again. Like he's been underwater this whole time and Jared helped him resurface.

Idiot will kill himself helping others if he doesn't know when to stop.

He wakes up the next morning and packs, makes a convenient detour to the Principal's office for a download of anything and everything he can get. He'll dissect the information later and add it to his database; he'd only been planning to linger here for a month anyway. He's far overstayed his welcome, and that's on him, but also a little bit on Jared.

When he slips out back (the kitchen maid is totally hot for him, by the way? Name's Danielle, or Danille or something) he nearly walks out in plain sight of the bus with new recruits coming in.

Last minute, Dean flattens himself against the wall and breathes heavily. Wow, that would have been the saddest escape-attempt ever. Rookie mistake, and he'd have no one to blame but himself for this one.

Only four people step off the bus before it speeds away with a screech of tires (civilians avoid this place like the plague; the air is sharp with sorrow reshaped into purpose, that purpose being murder, and yeah, no wonder ordinary people feel uncomfortable). Dean wouldn't have spared the newbies a second glance if it weren't for the one guy whose pack is so small and obviously empty that it swishes around when he turns.

Oh, and who could also be Dean's freaking clone.

Jesus Christ. It's nothing like seeing himself in the mirror. The guy's eyes are wide taking in the compound, and hold none of the darkness Dean sees when he catches a glimpse of himself while shaving or coming out of the shower. His hair is a shade lighter, he has stubble and wire-rimmed glasses, and it jars something in Dean to see a version of himself who's obviously so much more... lonely.

He knows, without a doubt, that this guy doesn't have a Sammy. This guy is pretty as a picture but he is all alone, and Dean surprises himself by feeling pity more than anything else. For all the crap he's been through and has yet to face, at least Dean has a plan now. At least Dean has a Sammy to rescue.

The group is met by Beaver at the entrance and one by one they all enter the building (handsome devil is last, trailing after them like he's lost), and Dean needs to leave. It's half a day's walk back to civilization and he's gotta get going.

He doesn't really let himself think about it until later, when he's well away into the wilderness and jogging steadily towards his brother, but it strikes him that he left Jared all alone too, and new guy is probably in need of a roommate.

Huh.

Analyzing any of this shit too deep will get him into a world of trouble, so Dean doesn't, but he is mildly comforted by the thought.

After all, whatever the hell this is it seems they come in pairs, and somehow... that's only right.

 

 

 

_The End_

_(Only not really at all?)  
_

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I... may write more of this 'verse. So. Y'all have been warned.


End file.
